


Play'st Subtly

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Prompt Fic, Silly, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2017, alliteration ahoy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 13:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11555730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: Watson can't wake. Written for JWP #19: Alliterative Whump.





	Play'st Subtly

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Pretty darn silly. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.
> 
> Author's Notes: Written for JWP #19: Watson's Woes is an alliteration. Whump Watson woefully with an alliterative injury of any severity. A swift stabbing or a gooey gumdrop? It's up to you! The last time this prompt appeared, I gave poor Watson [poison ivy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/887911). Your call whether this is better or worse.

“Watson. Watson. Watson, wake. Look at me.”  
  
I knew that voice. I heard the words, but struggled to understand them. A lazy lethargy left my limbs leaden, my thoughts tangled, and my eyelids stubbornly shut.   
  
“Watson!”  
  
It was Holmes. I knew it. I tried to answer, but managed no more than a muted mumble.  
  
Sudden sensation: a stinging slap, softened and smothered by the insidious exhaustion dulling every sense.   
  
“Watson. John. You must stay awake! That tainted tea contained some kind of drug, I’m sure of it, but I don’t know what it was. You mustn’t succumb!”  
  
The uncharacteristic panic in my friend’s voice spurred me to greater efforts. I groaned, but I still couldn’t open my eyes.  
  
“John, if you don’t wake up soon, I might be forced into drastic measures.” I had the sense Holmes had taken my hands and was chafing them vigorously, but try as I might, I could not move a finger in response.  
  
The chafing continued. “Very well, you force me to this.”  
  
A horrible noise assailed my ears, nearly deafening in volume, and unutterably, inexpressibly, tooth-rattlingly awful in tone. It went on and on, and gradually I realized several things:  
  
The noise was Holmes – Sherlock – singing, if such a word could be used to describe what he was doing.  
  
And Sherlock Holmes’ singing was so terrible that it could raise the nearly dead.  
  
I opened my eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 19, 2017.


End file.
